Lunar Rampage (Lunar Rampage Series Book 1)

by Samantha Cross

  “Get away!” I yelled.

  Two gunshots went off and Scott went still. His eyes had been locked on me in the instant he was shot and I watched as the yellow faded from his eyes and they returned to normal shade of brown. He then slipped down the door and folded on the ground.

  I remained on my back, panting heavily and more terrified and confused than I had ever been in my life. The door ripped open and Deputy Wilson came running in and bent down onto his knees beside me.

  “You all right? Did he get you?”

  “I’m.... I’m....” I couldn’t speak. I was in shock.

  “You’re all right. You’re going to be fine.”

  “Is he....?”

  The deputy’s eyes closed for a second. “I had to. He was going to kill you.”

  “Did you see that? Did you see that?” I knew what I had seen, I knew what we had all seen, but I wanted confirmation. I wanted to know I hadn’t imagined it all.

  Deputy Wilson nodded and then put his hand out for me. “Let me help you up.” I took his hand and he pulled me off the ground. “Davis, you all right?” Davis was still bundled in the corner and only managed a nod. “Is everyone all right?” Jason called out.

  I looked past him and to the open door where I saw Scott’s feet. Just his shoes were all I could see, like Joe. While Jason was trying to calm everyone I inched my way closer to get one more look at what had happened to Scott’s body. Jason saw me getting closer and threw himself in front of me.

  “You don’t want to see,” he said.

  “Deputy, look,” I said.

  I had expected to see the gnarling fangs, the pointed ears, the claws and contorted body, but all of it was gone. Scott’s body was that of a human. No excess hair, no jagged teeth, no claws, just white flesh and a gunshot wound. The disheveled, mortified look on Deputy Wilson’s face mirrored every thought I had going through my brain.

  Conveniently enough, crumpled up on the floor not far from us was the drawing Davis had been working on. I picked it up and got my first look of what I had seen through another person’s perspective. It was exactly what Scott was turning into. But the more horrifying thing was what it truly looked like. It was something my mind played around with, but didn’t want to accept, and the drawing and this occurrence only confirmed it. What Scott was, what I saw, what killed Joe...

  A werewolf.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Earth to Cora. Earth to Cora.”

  I snapped out of my trance to see dripping, wet crimson paint along the shutters of my grandma’s house. A sight that evoked horrible memories of opened throats and saturated teeth.

  Owen had a good belly laugh, standing beside me with a red paintbrush in his hand that matched my own. “Boy, you’re really out of it today.”

  “Huh?”

  His blue eyes focused in on me. “Are you all right? You’ve hardly spoken all morning. You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

  The thought that I was hurting his feelings was the only thing pulling me out of my catatonic state. “No, I’m not mad at you. We’re good, remember?”

  “Then what is it?”

  Oh, nothing. Only that I saw a guy's throat ripped out by some monstrous looking man who could only be stopped by two bullets to the back and that I’m actually not insane for thinking these things are werewolves.

  “I’m having nightmares is all,” was the best fib I could give. Heck, it was true, and it was a part of my agony, but it was like pixie dust compared to the real problem.

  “What kind of nightmares?”

  “The bad kind.”

  He chuckled. “I figured as much. What are they about?”

  I stared at the dripping red paint on my grandma’s house. I had coated it about five times too many and you could practically swim in it. “About wolves.”

  “You been hearing them howling at night?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  I could feel him staring right at me, but my gaze was locked on the paint. I tried so very hard to keep all this madness in the back of my mind and go about my normal day as Deputy Wilson had instructed, but no part of me could function normally anymore. I had been exposed to something unbelievable, and something truly awful. Sleeping, being awake, and talking about things that had nothing to do with what we had gone through was now impossible. I was drowning in this.

  “They’re just nightmares, they can’t hurt you. I know wolves are pretty creepy, but they don’t actually attack people. I’ve read that, you know? You would think otherwise because of everything you see on TV, but I think, for the most part, they want to be left alone.”

  “No, I agree. You’re right.”

  “Then what’s the problem? What’s got you in this funk?”

  I dropped my paintbrush into a tin can and turned my attention to him. “I’m really sorry, Owen, but do you think we could call it quits for today?”

  “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want. But I think you should talk to somebody. You look like your best friend just died.”

  “I’m just feeling under the weather. Grandma always said my physical and spiritual well-being were connected and I guess she was right.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I’m gonna head to the store to, maybe, get some aspirin, come home and pop a couple, take a bath, and stay in my PJ’s the rest of the day.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend a weekday.”

  I forced a smile. “Not at all.”

  I felt bad that I bailed on him, and I was pretty sure I was behind on the renovations for the house, but I needed to get the heck out of there. The past couple days were a complete waste of my life, sitting in my room for what felt like hours just replaying that horrible night at the police station over and over again in my head. I thought of all the ways something worse could have happened, I wondered why Scott had targeted me, and I shuddered to think what it would have felt like had Deputy Wilson not fired at him before he got to me.

  In that poor officer’s last moments was the terror of something attacking him and the pain of fangs ripping through his skin. I didn’t even know the guy, didn’t know his name or ranking, but he would remain with me forever.

  I decided to go to the public library and use one of their computers to get some information on what I had seen and what I was dealing with. Of course, as soon as I found the place, I realized they owned only one computer and some snot nosed kid was using it to play a space invasion game. He rocked back and forth in his seat like he was actually piloting a spaceship. Amateur.

  I realized I was going to have to find a book about it, but ten seconds into that thought I also realized I hadn’t come to a library looking for a book since I was a teenager. Back when that was what people used them for and not movie rentals and free wi-fi. I went down one of the aisles, scoping out the books and, eventually, found the horror section, but every werewolf book I found was general fiction or a romance novel. All the titles were these horrible werewolf puns that usually had some dude on the cover with his shirt flapped open and a wild mane of brown hair. Anytime I saw this, I just thought of Scott, his moist ratty looking locks, and slimy skin. It was just a memory, but I still, somehow, could smell the scent of blood in the air.

  “Hey, Cora,” a voice called. I turned and saw Henry standing at the end of the aisle, sweating and sniffling like he had a cold. Maybe that’s what I was smelling.

  “Henry, hey,” I faked cheerfulness. “What are you doing here? I thought you worked during the week.”

  “I do. I am. I’m dropping off a delivery.”

  “You do that, too?”

  “I do everything,” he replied with a big smile and spread his arms out. I could see sweat stains all over his sleeves. “Looking for a book?”

  “And failing. I’m trying to find one, but I seem to be in the totally wrong area.”

  “What kind of book is it?”

  I hesitated, not wanting to look like a crazy person. “Uh, a folklore kind of thing.”<
br />
  “What kind of folklore?”

  I was still hesitant, so through a big fake grin I said, “Werewolves.”

  Henry nodded once in an understanding fashion. “Still thinking what you saw could be something weird?”

  “What? No,” I snapped real quick. At first, I thought he had read my mind or somehow knew what was going on, but then I remembered he was the one to initially bring up the idea, back in purer, unknowing times. “I’m not a crazy person,” I added to cover up just how quickly I dismissed him. I supplied really awkward laughing as well. “Just some of the talk about it and a movie I saw on last night got me interested. I used to keep up with a lot of the myths and stories when I was a teenager, and thought, what the heck, it’d help kill a few hours.”

  “You don’t have to explain that to me. I look up that stuff all the time.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. Lycanthropes, vampires, ghosts, you name it.”

  “So, you’re an encyclopedia of weird crap then?”

  He smiled, as though flattered by the idea. “Sure!”

  “So, if I had a question, you could probably answer it then?” I said and he nodded like an excited puppy. “Well, okay, don’t werewolves only turn under a full moon?”

  “Depends. Movies make their own mythology all the time.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t it mostly true for all things?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Well, this movie I was watching had a guy turn into a werewolf without there being a full moon. I thought a full moon was mandatory.”

  “Some legends have them being able to turn whenever they want.”

  “Yeah, but this wasn’t of his own free will, believe me. He was in agony.”

  “Didn’t the movie explain why?”

  I paused. “No.”

  “Had he turned before?”

  This sparked my interest and I enthusiastically said, “No, he hadn’t.”

  “It was probably a trigger turn. If you want, I can help you find a book that could explain all this.”

  “Could you?”

  “Sure, but you won’t find it in this aisle. You gotta go one over. That’s where all the good reads are.” I followed him out of the romance genre and toward an aisle with heavier, thicker books. He slid one book out like he knew it’d be there all along; a big hardcover book that was a light brown and a bit beaten up. It seemed mistreated, but still readable. “Everything you want to know is in there.”

  “Thanks, Henry.”

  “You’re welcome. I need to go back to work now.”

  “Bug Priscilla for me.”

  “Okay,” he said with a gawky laugh and then tripped out of the building.

  I checked out the book and slid it into my purse like I was mugging a grocery store and hiding the goods. When I left the library, the sun was out and pretty bright, and I figured I shouldn’t waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside with my nose in a book. Those things definitely weren’t going to come after me during the day. So, I went to the only public park they had and sat in the swings reading pages from the book, and Henry was right, it had just about everything I wanted to know. There were pages and pages dedicated to Lycans, as they called them, with grisly drawings of them in predatory poses. Some of the drawings were off, with their ears being much too small, but for the most part, they captured the immense size of them pretty well.

  The first section was how one became a werewolf, which was pretty straightforward, with the most popular version being a simple werewolf bite. There were also some weird bits about drinking werewolf blood or wearing werewolf skin and another was murdering someone under a full moon. That last one I had never heard before and was kind of odd, but interesting.

  A page later was all about the transformation process. According to this book, the initial turn could take anywhere from five minutes to three hours, depending on how many times a person had completed the transformation. The more experience you have, the quicker the process is, meaning the veterans of the werewolves have more time in wolf form for hunting and murdering its prey. A very unsettling thought.

  I browsed the pages for a while until I finally found what Henry had referenced; the trigger transformation. Going by this legend, a person is bitten by a werewolf and the venom from the teeth of said werewolf enters the vein and, eventually, makes its way to the heart. Depending on the size of the wound and the amount of venom injected into the body, the transformation could begin anywhere from an hour after the initial bite to two whole days later, regardless of the presence of a full moon. Once the first transformation is complete, the body regulates to the cycles of the moon and shall only appear beast-like under the appearance of a full moon.

  Scott’s turning made sense now. I wasn’t aware of how big his bite actually was, but from the little time I saw him in human form I saw no prominent scratches or teeth marks. His bite must have been decently small and thus, he had a very tiny amount of venom running through his system. It made complete sense now. God, what horrible timing I had being at the police station at that very moment. If Deputy Wilson had waited just a day for me to come out, I never would have seen any of this, and I’d actually be sleeping at night. But then again, I’d still be in the dark about what I saw and probably still be going mad about it. Ugh, no matter what happened, I was in for a long headache.

  I felt a soft tug on the binder of my book. My body jolted and I almost fell out of the swing and onto the sand beneath me. “Somebody’s jumpy,” I heard Max’s voice come through. I promptly closed my book and tried to shield the cover from him. “Not feeling chatty?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Usually the only people who feel the need to say that are the exact opposite of fine.”

  “I have a lot on my mind,” I said and crawled out of the seat of the swing and began walking away.

  “I knew you were odd, but I never took you for rude.”

  I stopped walking. “I’m not trying to be rude, I just... something’s happened and I’m not sure I can talk about it.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “Not here, I can’t.”

  “Okay, then you can come to my place.”

  “No,” I urged viciously. “I’m not going anywhere near where I was attacked.”

  He took a few steps closer to me. “Does this have anything to do with those lumberjacks all getting killed?”

  “You know about that?”

  With a quick shrug he replied, “Everybody knows about that. It’s kind of hard not to notice the woods getting quieter and cops buzzing around like madmen.”

  “I don’t know if the woods are quieter, they’re just different now,” I trembled.

  He caught the break in my voice and tilted his head. “You think what killed them tried to kill you, huh?”

  “I don’t think that,” I replied ominously.

  “Well, now you have my curiosity.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about that,” I said and scurried on past him, but he grabbed my arm and jerked me toward him so close I could smell his faded cologne and moist summer heated skin. “I really can’t,” I added.

  “You look like you’re going to pop a blood vessel if you don’t.”

  “I’m afraid of what will happen if I do talk.”

  His blue eyes focused on me. “Someone threatening you?”

  “No. Not necessarily.”

  “Not necessarily?” he echoed me. He then, very gently, let go of my arm and brushed his hand across his brow. “Why don’t you come over to my place and tell me what happened?”

  “I told you, I’m not going anywhere near your house.”

  “It’s noon, Cora. Nothing is going to happen.”

  I bit down on my bottom lip so hard I almost broke the skin. “Fine, but I’m taking my car, and the second it looks like the sun is even behind a cloud I am out of there.”

  I followed Max’s beat up pickup truck with my Bug, and as soon as I was outside of my vehicle, I ran fo
r Max’s house and went inside. I’m pretty sure he thought I was insane, but he had no idea the kind of week I’d been having. Insomnia, paranoia, and actually being right about your fears makes a horrible cocktail for your body.

  “So, what’s got you so freaked out? The feds aren’t after you, are they?”

  “I wish,” I said and then sat down on the edge of his couch. I rubbed my hands together anxiously like I was over a campfire, and then a long sigh escaped from my throat. “I guess I may as well tell you everything. I don’t think you can find me crazier than I already am.”

  “Always a good start to a conversation.”

  “But this stays between us. If Deputy Wilson finds out I’m spilling the beans, I might get arrested or something.” I knew that wasn’t true, but I wanted Max to keep his mouth shut at all costs.

  “Christ, the feds are after you,” he said.

  I wrapped myself up in my arms and kept my eyes down to the brown carpeted floor. “Whatever you do, just let me finish my story. Don’t interrupt me, don’t laugh at me, just absorb it and let me tell it.”

  He could tell I meant business and sat down on one of his lounge chairs across from me. And that’s when I told him everything; how Deputy Wilson thought my attack was connected to the lumberjacks’ deaths, how he invited me down to the station for my story and descriptions, and the horrible moment Scott appeared and turned into the most vile-looking monster I had ever seen. I made sure to give as much detail as possible, to really bring him into my memory, so he could grasp just how traumatic it had been for all of us. I expected Max to be laughing at me the whole time, but I sounded so wrecked and terrified that I think he actually believed me. As bizarre and impossible as that seemed.

  When my story had finished, he responded, “This can’t be true,” but my God, he had doubt in his voice.

  “At this point I don’t even care if you believe me, because I don’t need to convince anyone of what I saw. Maybe my honesty can’t be vouched for, but a whole department of officers can. You can ask Deputy Wilson. He may deny it, but all you have to do is look into his eyes—into every cop’s eyes that works there, and you’ll see what we saw. What we saw wasn’t human.”